


Clashing Swords

by GamblingDementor



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Companions, F/F, F/M, Jorrvaskr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:16:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3193250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GamblingDementor/pseuds/GamblingDementor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coming back to Breezehome after a long mission, Krass Naja and her Orc friends notices her housecarl is more than platonically interested in her fellow Companion friend Farkas. Farkas himself seems very fond of Lydia as well. She thinks nothing of it, but her dear friend Borgakh thinks up a plan to get Farkas and Lydia to admit their interest for each other. Will it work and make Lydia and Farkas admit their feelings for one another?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ill suited

Rain was pouring all over their heads, their clothes, their bags. They were bound to get soaked before reaching Whiterun with that kind of weather. Krass Naja's leg was still bleeding, even through the bandages Ghorbash had wrapped around it, her fever refused to go away, and all that in addition to the storm made them walk slower than a khajiit would walk away from a ball of soft yarn. Ghorbash complained the most, even though he had had the least trouble so far. Lydia had been pretty much spared in the fight as well, and her Nord blood seemed to prevent her from ever falling ill. In fact, she was faring so well that she had insisted on carrying on her shoulders all the bags that Krass Naja could no longer hold. Borgakh was slowly recovering from the fever that had struck them two nights before. Only Krass Naja's situation seemed to be worsening every day, but she kept her head high and tried to laugh it off. What kind of person would call themselves an Orc if they could not face illness and injuries with bravery? And what kind of person would call themselves a Companion if they weren't able to shoulder any sort of damage with a smile on their face?

Lydia spotted a cave a little further down the road. Sometimes Krass Naja was convinced that Lydia had been an archer in a previous life. Her eyesight was exceptional. One of her many qualities, actually. Krass Naja was beginning to really enjoy Lydia's presence in her life − something that did not always seem to be mutual. Lydia was  _special_ , that was sure. She never ever let her guard down and least of all for something as trivial (as she called it) as having fun. She would very often stand next to them sternly, watching out for danger, while they spent nights drinking their bodyweight in mead and telling the most ridiculous stories with more details and extravagance every time they told it again − that was quite often, considering Orcs weren't very creative and loved telling the same stories over and over again. Yet Lydia and Krass Naja had grown closer over time. They said that nothing bound two being together more than the blood of the enemies they slayed together. She could not picture her group without the Nord among them anymore. Or her life, really. Lydia had become an ever-present source of support and knowledge, if also of judgement and sneering. She knew that she could trust Borgakh and Ghorbash with her life, and recently she felt that Lydia could follow her to the death if she had to, too.Krass Naja found a big boulder in the entrance of the cave and sat on it. As her dear Borgakh gathered wood to build a fire, Lydia roamed the area to make sure it was safe. Ghorbash let himself fall next to his friend with a thump.  
\- I hate it when it rains, he said.  
\- I know.  
\- I mean I really really hate it.  
\- I know.  
\- Good. Are we staying long?  
\- Until it stops raining.  
\- Good.  
For once, she was glad that Ghorbash was a much quieter fellow than herself and Borgakh always were. She really did not feel capable of holding a deep conversation. Her head was pounding, she was cold and her lips were chapped. It was just a while after noon, still early in the day, and yet she felt like sleeping already. It sure did not help that the sky had been a threatening dark grey all day long. Just as her eyes were beginning to close themselves, a cold hand touched her forehead. Borgakh was checking her temperature.  
\- Better than yesterday.  
\- Don't think so. My head hurts so much. The others will say I'm a… What's that they're saying again?

\- Milk drinker.

\- Yeah. They'll say I'm a milk drinker.

\- You're not, though. You're just ill and injured.  
She ran a loving hand through Krass Naja's hair and sat next to her, on the other side as Ghorbash, pulling her head on her lap, forcing her to lie down. She never remembered falling asleep, yet woke up by a weak fire several hours later, judging by the position of the sun in the sky. She sat up, searching for Borgakh.  
\- I'm right behind you.  
That was Lydia's voice. Krass Naja turned her head, and that simple move made everything hurt even more. Her Nord housecarl stood next to her two sidekicks, who were asleep against each other. Ghorbash was snoring loudly and she wondered how she had even managed to get any sleep earlier, and how her Borgakh could simply lay there, a sleeping beauty. She supposed they had grown used to him over time.

She certainly had no problem sleeping hearing Ghorbash's snoring, because she had slept through it thousands of times before. She had always known Ghorbash. They had both been born in Dushnikh Yal, in the south of the Reach, though he was much older than she was. He was the brother of her chief father, Burguk, and had always been an inspiration to her. When she was little, he had been serving in the Legion, only coming back on rare occasions with gifts for the whole clan, and mostly for his father, who had been chief at the time. She had always loved listening to him, spending time with him, and when she had decided to become a city Orc and go live her own adventures in the wild world, she had asked him to come with her. Her mother had given her a steel warhammer in which she had poured all her anger and her shame. Even though the weapon was supposed to be a mark of pity and shame, Krass Naja had never wielded any other weapon ever since. The hammer reminded her of home. She had not seen her family in years now, and hoped that her younger sister Lash had been less of a disappointment than her. But she had made her choice to go beyond the wooden fence of her stronghold and she never regretted it.Getting to know Borgakh had been a very different story. They had met when Krass Naja was still barely out of childhood and had visited Mor Khazgur with her father, who at the time wanted to get to know the young women of the stronghold to find a new wife. In the end, she had spent a lot of time with Borgakh, the only other child, and her father had not found any wife. The only woman who was of an age to marry was a forge-wife, and Burguk did not need another wife to take care of their smithy. The little girls had learned enough about each other to know that they were not interested in getting married and sent away to foreigners. Krass Naja had never forgotten that. A decade later, as she and her uncle had been travelling across the province to reach Whiterun, they had spent a night in the stronghold, lying about the reason of their travelling, and it had taken very little convincing to get Borgakh to join them. They had left as thieves in the night.Joining the Companions had been the only important life-changing event that had been as important in their lives as leaving the Orc strongholds. Krass Naja had heard of the courage and honour of the men and women allowed to join their ranks, and she had convinced her two friends to feel the same way as she did about the faction. When they asked to join the noble warriors of Jorrvaskr, people had looked at them with sneering side-eyes and mocking smiles, but Kodlak had immediately seen the light in their eyes. Three new Companions at once represented a big opportunity for him and his faction. The other members were rather reluctant to allow Orcs among them, but they had quickly learned that they could be trusted. Spilling the blood of the enemy together always helped forging friendships in all circumstances. Their fighting skills were on par with the others', and so it was that they had been fully accepted into the guild. Krass Naja, who out of the three was probably a little bit more hardworking, a little more devoted, had even been offered the honour to join the Circle, but when she had learned of the consequences, she had refused. Her blood would not be tainted with beast damnation. Another had accepted instead. The cat who somehow she could also call her friend, Kha'Nar. Somehow, Krass Naja believed that his acceptance of beast blood must have been linked to the tragic events that happened afterwards. After months of struggle and battles against the Silver Hand, Kodlak had been taken from them. At least, they had saved his soul, even if they had failed to save his life. Kha'nar had become the Harbinger instead in the end. Yet another person who she never thought she would grow fond of when she met him, and who had become a friend of hers despite their differences. Really, leaving the strongholds had taught her so many things, tolerance not least, that everything that happened ever since she'd left felt like a blessing, no matter how painful.She woke the two others up. Ghorbash grumbled, but got on his feet just as Borgakh did, ready to go. Krass Naja was still feeling very weak, but she let nothing show and took the lead. They reached Whiterun by dusk. The guards greeted her with that wary and yet mocking look they bore when they met her eyes. Nords were not fond of her, even after all this time, even after becoming Thane of the city. She paid no mind to it, too busy trying to fake her well-being. And not quite succeeding. By the time they reached Breezehome, she had to lean on Borgakh's arm and once inside, she had to be tucked in bed. She barely noticed her uncle changing her ever-bleeding bandages, helped by Lydia, and fell asleep right away, lulled by the delirium of her fever.


	2. New Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krass Naja is not faring very well and Lydia has to warn the Companions. She talks with Farkas and can't deny a connection − or rather denies it vehemently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter introduces Farkas, whom everyone knows and loves, but also Kha'nar. He is also one of my OC. In case the first chapter wasn't clear on that, I'll explain: Krass Naja and Kha'nar both share the story and the universe, and both are my playable characters, and as such, I had to make choices to make them coexist. They both went through the dungeon to get the dragon stone back, and both were praised by the Jarl. Both helped defeat the dragon, but Kha'nar is the Dragonborn. However, he is a very solitary person and dislikes being put on the spot. He accepted once for the Companions and is not about to accept another time and be named Thane. Considering Krass Naja helped just as much with the dragon, she was named Thane and received Lydia as her huscarl. But Kha'nar is the Harbinger. I hope I cleared that up. Enjoy the fic :)

Lydia had never seen her Thane in such a dreadful state, and for that she was nervous. She had barely slept, thinking about all the eventualities of the Orc's illness. Would Krass Naja get better soon or would she let herself go slowly, abandoning hope? Would the wounds heal quickly or would they fester? They had been pouring pus the night before, despite the best treatment by Ghorbash. Would the Jarl blame her, Lydia, for everything? Would he deem her unworthy of the solemn oath of a housecarl and revoke her of her functions? What would she do? What would the Orcs do without Krass Naja? Would her Thane survive all this?

  
She had to admit that this old Orc friend of her Thane was very talented with herbs and ointments. Apparently, his mother had been a wise woman in their Orc stronghold. Lydia used to know very little of Orc customs, but had learned a lot since she had been selected to pledge her life and sword to Krass Naja. Still, there were things that were simply beyond her. She never understood why Ghorbash was so proud of his alchemist heritage while Borgakh swore that Orcs should let all their wounds heal naturally, or die of them, as all warriors should. Faced with that, Lydia said nothing and simply obeyed in every task that would help her Thane survive, and although she very rarely resorted to healers and alchemists herself, she had to admit that she was on Ghorbash's side on that issue, and would help him get the best treatment for her Thane as best as she could. If that meant wrapping her wounds in linen soaked in the most unnatural ointments, she would wrap them. Even if Borgakh frowned at her the whole evening. 

The previous night, they had taken care of Krass Naja's injuries and Lydia had retired to her room. The old Orc had spent the night in the hall as he often did, the old freak. He would often sleep on the floor, claiming it was better for his back. She would have put that on the account of him being an Orc and Orcs being queer people if it weren't for the other two, who knew what beds were, though they did not always choose to sleep in them. Sometimes, the other Orc would sleep in the same bed as Krass Naja. And sometimes she would not sleep at all, and sometimes she would rest on a sleeproll in the living room, next to the fire, because both her and Krass Naja loved fire and heat. The sleeping arrangements for four people in a house with two beds were endless, and more often than not, all three Orcs spent more time by the fire chatting (more like yelling and hollering if Lydia was to describe it truthfully) and drinking than sleeping. With the fire lit all day and night, Lydia's Nord blood could not stand how hot the house got sometimes. But she never said anything. She would sigh, she would grunt, she would let it show on her face, but it was not her place to verbally rebuke her Thane for her personal lifestyle choices.

Borgakh and Ghorbash were already up when Lydia came out of her room.

 

"Good morning, Lydia."

Lydia nodded and sat at the table to have breakfast. She grabbed a sweetroll and spoke up when she saw the other Orcs glancing at each other warily.

 

"How is my Thane?"

 

Borgakh's eyes went down, like Lydia had just mentioned the most shameful topic on Nirn.

 

"Naja was asleep when I went to see her, but she doesn't look too well. She's not herself these days. I think the arrows were poisoned."

 

"I would not put it behind bandits to go to such despicable means to try to win a battle."

 

The Orcs grunted in agreement and resumed eating. Lydia ate up her sweetroll and went upstairs. No noise came from Krass Naja's room, but that could mean anything. She knocked on the door lightly and went in after waiting for an answer which did not come.

Her Thane was lying on her bed, eyes fluttering open. It seemed that she had been moving a lot in her sleep. The sheets were crumpled and her red hair was sticking to her wet forehead.

 

"My Thane, I have come to see you," said Lydia and stood next to Krass Naja's bed.

 

The Orc's eyes slowly focused on her.

 

"Lydia… I am ashamed that you see me in such… a pitiful state…"

 

She struggled to speak, her voice interrupted by fits of coughing.

 

"What can I do to help?"

 

"Borgakh has to go to… Jorrvaskr… to report on the mission."

 

"It shall be so. Is there anything else you might need?"

 

"No."

 

She closed her eyes, breathing heavily. She probably wanted to be left alone to rest.

Lydia trusted no one when it came to accounting for her Thane, so she followed Borgakh's steps to Jorrvaskr to seek help for Krass Naja as well as report on her mission. Born in Whiterun, Lydia had always known the old building as part of her landscape, but had hardly ever stepped inside it. Full of wonder, she walked into Jorrvaskr and was almost knocked down by a tall bulky man.

 

"Can't you just watch where you step, milk drinker?"

 

Vilkas. Sometimes Lydia mixed him and his brother up from far away, but just looking at their face and hearing them talk always settled the issue. Vilkas had never said a kind word to Lydia in her life − not that she found any occasion to speak to him when she could avoid it. He would often grunt, frown, groan, and Lydia thought very little of such a grumpy man.

 

"We have come to report on my Thane's mission."

 

"Look for Farkas or the Harbinger. I don't give missions to whelps."

 

He walked right into Jorrvaskr without turning back, apparently busy. She frowned and looked around. Borgakh was nowhere to be seen, probably delving into the living quarters of Jorrvaskr to find the Harbinger who barely got out of his room when he dwelled in the city between hunts.

She took a few steps inside the ancient home of the Companions and admired the beautiful and the welcoming vibe that the mead hall always gave off. A few of the warriors were resting on their seats, probably telling tales to the glory of past heroes of their noble faction. On the opposite side of the room, outside on the benches, she spotted Farkas. His back to her, he was leaning on the table and watching the beautiful landscape of the Throat of the World over the high walls of the city. Jorrvaskr offered the best views on the landscape of Skyrim in all of Whiterun.

Farkas was wearing his armour already. Lydia admired the Companions for their safe behaviour. Too often, she had seen people remove their armour, thinking they were safe, and lose much for their mistake. She only went without hers when she was in her bedroom in Breezehome, and only at night. Much like herself, Farkas was a true warrior and knew that wariness was vital. 

Although they were roughly the same age, Farkas and Lydia had never spoken more than a few times, and only out of necessity. Lydia had been busy her whole life. Her training to become a guard had been tough and too much work to do anything else, like make friends. Even as a child, she had spent very little of her free time wandering in the city. She had never really craved contact with other people. Instead, she had read books about great heroes and helped her parents with their shop. She had never really played with other children. Much less with Companions. She had always been too shy for that.

 

That dream had been fulfilled for someone else. Her heart swelled with pride every time she thought about her Thane, who had been deemed brave enough to pledge the oath of the Companions. Even her Orc friends were part of the ancient faction. Lydia herself had dreamed of it thousands of times, but her solemn oath of housecarl prevented her from joining them. Farkas had always been a Companion. He had told her once that his father had brought him and his brother to Jorrvaskr and that they had never left it. Now there was a fulfilling life Lydia could only dream of.

She was about to cough to make herself be known when Farkas turned his head before she did anything. 

 

"I thought I heard someone," he said with a huge grin.

 

Somehow, Farkas had always made Lydia feel at ease, though they barely knew each other. He spoke little but showed much in his endeavors, just like her. She often found the Orcs she travelled with a bit too loud for her own taste. 

 

"My Thane is unwell. The mission has been accomplished but she will be resting until the illness leaves her."

 

"What happened?" he asked, his eyes widening in worry.

 

"We have been ambushed by the bandits and we think that some of them may have used poisoned arrows. Her friends and I have been spared by the archers, but I fear she has been hit. The cold and the rain took us by surprise after the fight and I'm afraid my Thane has caught a fever as well."

 

"Is she resting?"

 

"Yes. She is in Breezehome."

 

"She should come to Jorrvaskr."

 

He had uttered that so quick and naturally that Lydia startled. How much generosity, how much selflessness in this man, as expected from a brave Companion. His eyes twinkled with hope. 

 

"I do not think my Thane will be in a state to walk."

 

"We'll carry her. Vilkas!"

 

He had shouted a lot louder than Lydia had expected, which she did not like. Sometimes she thought that the twins had special powers, for the grumpy slimmer man appeared next to her a few seconds later. She wondered if there was some sort of magic involved.

 

"Yes, brother?"

 

"Krass Naja's sick and hurt. We are going to carry her to the whelps room. She's in Breezehome but she'll need us to get better. We can take care of her."

 

"You are too late, brother. I've seen to Borgakh. She's taking care of it with our Orc shieldbrother."

 

Farkas looked puzzled but nodded at his twin. He turned back to Lydia and smiled at her.

 

"Kha'nar knows a lot about potions. He'll fix her up."

 

"Let us hope she gets through this safe and sound."

  

The Harbinger only had to take one look at Krass Naja to give her an appropriate ointment as well as a potion that she was to take a sip from every day. 

 

"The potion is very strong. Bandits are disgusting creatures. Khajiit hopes Krass Naja will feel better soon. The recovery should last at least two weeks, even for such a strong warrior." 

 

"My Thane is a mighty strength of nature. She will heal. Thank you, Kha'nar."

 

"It is but this one's duty."

 

With these words, he took his retreat, leaving Krass Naja and her friends alone. 

 

"Damn cat," muttered Borgakh. 

 

Lydia rolled her eyes and cleared her throat.

 

"I shall await you in Breezehome, my Thane, and visit you every day."

 

"Lydia, don't be stupid," Krass Naja cried out in her weakened voice.

 

Orcs, as many Nords, could be extremely blunt, no matter their state of health.

 

"What is it?"

 

"You are not staying home alone, Nord," replied Borgakh, who was gently rubbing her friend's temple. "No way we're letting you lonely and sobbing in your room, worried sick about Naja."

 

Lydia puffed and put her hands on her waist.

 

"Nords  _do not_   _sob_."

 

"Lydia, stay," Krass Naja repeated in a voice barely louder than a whisper. She would need a lot of rest, and soon.

 

Lydia nodded and stood before the door, not quite knowing what she was expected to do. 

 

"I shall follow your orders, then."

 

"First order, bring us a keg of mead," said Ghorbash. "We need some fun down here."

 

They all laughed at Lydia's shocked expression.

 

Later in the day, it was decided that Ghorbash would leave on a mission, leaving his niece and friend in the hands of her dear Borgakh and of Lydia, both of whom he said he trusted enough to take care of her. His feet, he'd said, itched for traveling again and he was sent on a job in Haafingar. And so it was that Lydia was stuck in Jorrvaskr.

 


	3. Fencing Masterplan

Krass Naja's eyelids felt heavier than ever and she had to squeeze Borgakh's hand to let her know that she heard her. Borgakh, her sweet Borgakh had come in the morning to check on her state, which was unfortunately not better than the previous day. She told her tales and recalled the happenings of the mead hall to keep her distracted, but it was hard to focus and she missed details in every story.

 

"At least, I'm happy we are staying here and not in Breezehome, Borgakh said. That place is freezing," Borgakh concluded.

 

Krass Naja chuckled feebly. Speaking was a lot easier than yesterday, but now it was the eyes that hurt the most. The eyes and the rest of her body. She simply kept them closed and listened. Listening was hard, although she had to admit that it was a lot easier to listen to Borgakh than to Lydia.

 

"Freezing for a forgewife like you," she said pointedly and sensed that Borgakh was smiling, though she couldn't find the strength to look up and see for herself.

 

"That's it, you've lost it, Naja. I'm not a forgewife. Or any sort of wife."

 

"You would have been if you'd stayed. Olur's forgewife, probably. Besides, it's cold in here, too. I don't see why Lydia doesn't beg to come here all the time."

 

Now that she had mentioned it, she was indeed cold herself. A shiver ran through her and she tried to hide it, but Borgakh saw it and gave her another blanket. She sighed.

 

"I'll sweat up all I have if you keep piling on those furs."

 

"Better too hot than too cold."

 

"Spoken like a true Orc. I miss the forge."

 

Both Krass Naja and Borgakh had been raised to know how to be a blacksmith, and, as a result, they had been used to being around heat so much that they could barely stand even the softest chill. Even fighting kept warriors warm, but she was in no state for fighting.

 

"Speaking of Lydia," Borgakh said, "I think she likes Farkas."

 

"She's not heartless, my dear, of course she likes Farkas. Everyone does."

 

"No, I mean she  _likes_  him."

 

Krass Naja's eyes shot open and she regretted it immediately. She grabbed her head and put pressure on her temple to make the ache go away − in vain. Borgakh stroked her nape in a soothing gesture but the pain did not fade.

 

"Be careful, Naja."

 

"You were saying…"

 

"I saw her chat with him this morning at breakfast. Can you imagine? Just picture Lydia  _chatting_."

 

"Now you're just being mean."

 

"Sorry, dear," Borkagh said and took her hand, rubbing it softly. 

 

"Lydia can be very talkative. Just get her drunk."

 

They both chuckled at the memory of the last time they had given so much mead and wine to Lydia, and as she got more and more inebriated, she had removed her armour and sung to the glory of the Dragonborn all night in the thinnest of her tunics. The next morning, she did not seem to remind any of it, and Krass Naja knew better than to embarrass her with the story.

 

"Anyway, it would be good for her. She can be so shy and stuck up."

 

"Again, dear, she's my housecarl. Please don't insult her." She paused, thought. "But you're probably right. A little love never hurt anyone."

 

Borgakh smiled at her, running her fingers through the coarse hair at her nape, but sprung up when the door opened, revealing a very solemn Lydia.

 

"Good day to you, my Thane."

 

Krass Naja was many things, but most certainly not a good actor. She hid her smirk as best as she could, though very lightly. Fortunately, Lydia did not seem to have heard their conversation about her. Borgakh gave Krass Naja a kiss on the forehead and left for the morning.

 

After Lydia was gone as well (a rather pompous visit, more for appearance than for actual desire to speak), nobody came to see her until hours later. She slept a lot, and yet time did not seem to pass as quickly as it should. When Borgakh came back, it was with a huge grin plastered on her face.

 

"Oh, Malacath, what have you done  _again_?"

 

Borgakh's smile did not turn down even for a second and she almost trotted to reach Krass Naja as fast as she could with a platter of food on her arms, put it down on the night stand and took her friend's hand in her own.

 

"The mission is launched. Farkas and Lydia. Training together. In the yard. Right now."

 

Krass Naja had been about to eat a spoonful of the broth Borgakh had brought her but stopped her arm mid air.

 

"Don't tell me you're still hung up on them hooking up?"

 

"You should see them! They look so cute together you could throw up."

 

"I don't want you playing tricks on them."

 

"Well, do you want to hear what we did or not?"

 

"We? Someone helped?"

 

"Vilkas, actually. Never expected it from him. I guess he loves his brother more than he hates us."

 

Who would have thought."

 

They remained in comfortable silence for a while. The meal was good. That was something she did not miss from her life in the Orc stronghold. Nord food was so much better than Orc food, which was atrocious at best.

 

"So, you wanna know what we did?"

 

"You want to tell me. Go ahead," Krass Naja said with a sigh.

 

Borgakh smiled, exposing all of her sharp teeth, and started her story.

 

"So, this morning, Lydia was sulking in some corner, as she always does."

 

"Tsk…"

 

"You know how she is, judging us and never saying a thing. So anyway, I saw her begin to lurk at Farkas from the other side of the hall. It's a pity we never noticed before, really, I'm sure she's fancied him for a long time, but I guess Lydia never comes here when she can avoid it. Nord honour and all that, she doesn't like to be reminded that she's not a Companion. So we never had a chance to see her around him."

 

"To the point, dear."

 

"Well, just as I was watching her glancing at him from her seat, turns out Farkas was doing the same. But they never saw each other's look. Damn idiots."

 

"Poor Lydia, that sounds very sweet and here you are insulting her."

 

"I'm not insulting her, I'm insulting  _them_."

 

Krass Naja almost rolled her eyes, but remembered that it would hurt and shook her head instead. Which hurt just as much.

 

"That's when I saw Vilkas."

 

"And he yelled at you for being so ridiculous about people's feelings."

 

"And he listened to me and said it was an excellent idea to get them to know each other better. He says, and hold on, that's the good part, that Farkas has  _never_  been with a woman before."

 

Krass Naja thought upon what her friend had just said. Could Farkas really be a virgin? It actually seemed pretty likely. He did not have the way with words that his brother had, and he was almost always training, fighting or away from anyone on a mission. The only people he seemed to socialize with were the Companions. Aela was completely uninterested in him, or in any man ever since Skjor's death. The two other whelps were apparently not his type, maybe due to Ria's obvious eagerness to please anyone and inability to settle on someone and Njada's rash behavior, and he knew better than to hit on herself or Borgakh.

 

"That makes sense."

 

"So we decided to change that. I told Lydia we would train together in the yard and Vilkas said the same to Farkas."

 

"You sneaky little liars," Krass Naja chuckled, flicking at her friend's arm.

 

"So I just said I actually had to check on you, Vilkas said he had a meeting with Kha'nar, and we insisted they worked together. Didn't want to spoil the fun."

 

"What did they do?"

 

"You know Farkas, he always does anything Vilkas says. He told Lydia it was a good idea."

 

"What I wouldn't give to see them now."

 

"I wish you could."

 

Krass Naja gave the plan more thought. It  _could_  be a good idea.

 

"Do you think Lydia will talk to me about it?"

 

The other Orc snorted.

 

"Of course not. She will deny enjoying even a second of it if you mention it."

 

"Don't force her into anything, though. You know how she can be…"

 

"Oh yes, I know."

 

"If anything has to happen between them, it will, and you don't have to mingle with them."

 

"It definitely will…"

 


End file.
